


Criminal Impulses

by Twice_Shy (notboldly)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Awkward Flirting, First Kiss, M/M, Pining Derek, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Wildlife Rehabilitator Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4109605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notboldly/pseuds/Twice_Shy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Officer Stiles Stilinski pulls Derek over for speeding. To Derek's surprise, he gives him a ticket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Criminal Impulses

Derek tried not to speed in his truck, but it was a fact widely acknowledged by his friends and family that all bets were off when he was on his motorcycle. It wasn't that he did it on purpose; as he'd explained several times, he simply forgot to check the speedometer when he came off the interstate and his bike was loud anyway, making him a roaring blur that was probably too tempting a target to resist. Around the third or fourth time he was let off with a warning, Derek decided to stop pushing his luck with the cops and changed his route to town.

In hindsight, he probably should have looked a little more closely at the signs he passed rather than letting himself get caught up in the freedom, the sun on the asphalt and the wind slapping his jacket collar against his neck. By the time he realized he was going forty-two in a thirty, there were already familiar blue and red lights behind him, the police siren screaming in his ears even through his helmet. Derek sighed and pulled over, painfully fake smile on his face before he'd so much as turned off his bike.

The cop who climbed out of the cruiser was unfamiliar, which was a good sign, since Derek was certain the ones he'd already met were starting to catch onto his habits. To Derek's surprise and interest, the cop was also lean, with mole-dotted skin and an almost pretty face under his close cut brown hair. Derek could already feel his smile becoming a little more genuine as he pulled off his helmet; if there were recruitment posters for the police department, this officer was no doubt on all of them.

By the time the officer came to a stop beside his bike, Derek's smile had shifted from friendly to flirtatious.

"Hey."

The officer raised one eyebrow, which was a little comical, or it would have been if Derek wasn't halfway to dying of embarrassment.

 _Hey_. Of all the opening lines.

"Good evening, sir." The tone was friendly, polite and professional while the cop tapped his fingertips against his ticket book. He was making an obvious attempt to look stern. Derek didn't tell him it was a lost cause; he looked sort of young, like he was new to this or maybe just new to being out on his own, and Derek didn't want to discourage him.

"Good evening—" Derek darted his eyes down, to the name on his uniform. "—Officer Stilinski."

The name was a little familiar; maybe he wasn't as new to this as Derek thought. Officer Stilinski, however, didn't seem to recognize him at all, since he simply nodded and flipped open his book.

"Would you step off the bike, please, and give me your—"

The radio in the cruiser blared to life, loud enough to startle even from a distance and sounding urgent, and they both glanced at it. Stilinski sighed, a bloom of air from a distractingly pink mouth, then he held up one long finger. Derek tried not to stare too openly.

"One moment, sorry."

Stilinski set off on a speed walk back to his car, and Derek watched him for a second, then made an impulsive decision. Once he had pulled out his license, registration, and insurance card, he ripped a sheet of paper from the slightly damp notebook in his saddlebag, jotting a quick note down as he glanced furtively back at the cruiser. The note wasn't anything complicated, just a blunt "Let's have dinner" with his name and phone number written below it, but Derek felt confident it would get his point across anyway. He tucked it in with the rest of his information, smiling, and handed the pile to Officer Stilinski as soon as he came back.

Officer Stilinski nodded in thanks, then turned and trotted back to his cruiser to run his info without another word or so much as a glance at the papers in his hand. Derek waited. He shifted from foot to foot for what felt like several minutes before he heard footsteps coming back toward him, and he looked up with a hopeful smile.

Officer Stilinski smiled back, still friendly, and handed him his information.

"Have a nice night, Mr. Hale."

Derek frowned as he watched him walk away, confused. It was only after the cruiser pulled onto the road that Derek unfolded the papers in his hand, careful to slip his license into his wallet as he did so. Underneath his legal papers was, surprisingly, the same notebook sheet he'd tucked in, folded in half, and he opened it eagerly.

Inside it was a ticket for two hundred and thirty four dollars, next to the scrawled words "no thanks," each word underlined three times.

***

Laura had told him before that speeding on his bike was a good way to get splattered across the road, and she'd told him _frequently_ because Laura had insisted on mothering him since they were teenagers even though they had two perfectly functioning parents. Derek usually responded that he could get equally splattered while going the speed limit, but it wasn't really a win to the argument and it caused Laura to get the same pinched expression their mother got whenever the subject came up. As a result, Derek tried not to tell her when he got pulled over; it was much easier that way.

Erica was a different matter entirely, and she laughed at his expression when he stopped by her bar after he'd finished his errands for the night. Even though she poured him a drink without a word, he knew the blessed silence couldn't last.

"You're looking awfully grumpy, Derek. The wind ruffle your hair too much?"

Derek grunted, a noncommittal noise as he sipped his whiskey on the rocks. Erica had pointed out, several times, what a cliché he was, but he wasn't about to change his preferences just to ruin her fun.

"No. I got a speeding ticket."

She laughed again, a little meanly.

"Couldn't charm your way out of it this time?"

Derek scowled harder and drummed his fingers against the bar top.

"No. He wasn't my type." Which was a big fat lie, of course. Derek knew he'd probably deserved the ticket—eight miles over the limit was pushing it, twelve was probably reckless endangerment or something—and so he wasn't that upset about the inevitable hike in his insurance rates. However, Officer Stilinski, with his warm brown eyes and friendly face, had stuck with Derek long after they'd gone their separate ways. Derek thought he could use a little friendly in his life.

Except Officer Stilinski wasn't interested. Derek didn't know why he'd expected differently; even if Stilinski wasn't probably straight, lawbreakers weren't attractive at all outside of high school, or at least that's what Derek assumed. He wasn't the best judge since his high school years had mostly been basketball, Hawaiian shirts, and the Baha Men, and thus were pretty embarrassing for everyone.

Erica rolled her eyes like his entire existence was a disappointment to her.

"That's not why you flirt with cops, dumbass."

Derek grumbled but didn't say anything else to give himself away. It wasn't any of her business anyway.

***

The second time Derek was pulled over on that same stretch of road, he wasn't even speeding (much). He'd almost been expecting it regardless, although he couldn't help but startle a little when the man ducking out of the police cruiser was _familiar_. The same cop twice in a row, because that was his luck.

Weirdly enough, Officer Stilinski seemed to recognize him too, judging by the way his walk slowed, although it thankfully seemed to be less from caution and more from surprise. To be fair, he couldn't have pulled over too many people in three short weeks, not on this lonely patch of old highway. Derek tried not to get his hopes up.

The cop smiled at him, and Derek returned it with a tentative smile of his own.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Smooth," Officer Stilinski said, voice still light and friendly, and Derek felt his face flush and his hopes droop despite himself. So much for remembering him for a _good_ reason. "License, registration, and insurance please."

Derek handed them over, this time with no embarrassing note. Officer Stilinski didn't go back to his car to run them, however, simply pulled out his ticket book and waited. After a minute, Stilinski gave him a pointed look, and Derek reluctantly climbed off his bike.

"No helmet today, Mr. Hale? You do know California has helmet laws?"

"Yeah. I…lost it. I was just going to get a new one, actually." And he was, or at least he was now, so it wasn't even a lie. Honestly, he should've replaced it as soon as it had fallen out of his truck, but he'd been a little preoccupied with Laura panicking about her fiancé pulling a Runaway Bride before the wedding next month.

Officer Stilinski, of course, hummed like he didn't believe a word Derek said, which was understandable.

"I'm going to have to fine you. Safety regulations are important, you know."

Derek kicked at the ground, grumbling a little under his breath as a fine layer of dust covered his boot. Stilinski's lips twitched, clearly waiting for an answer, and Derek sighed.

"Yeah. I know."

Stilinski nodded sagely, like Derek's grudging acceptance was all he wanted out of the encounter and he would have gladly waited all day for him to force out the words. It was annoying. And a little funny, maybe.

"Glad to hear it." He handed Derek the ticket after he gave his information a cursory glance, papers accompanied with another smile, this one wider and a little toothy. "Stay safe, Mr. Hale. And go get a helmet."

Derek nodded and watched him walk away, again waiting until the police cruiser was on the road and speeding past him before he shoved the papers into his saddlebag. He barely glanced at the ticket, too busy hoping his windblown cheeks had disguised his flush.

It was only for ten dollars. So…that was okay, at least.

***

The third time Derek ran into Officer Stilinski, he figured he should either take it as a sign that the universe was playing an enormous joke on him, or that Laura was. While he wasn't usually paranoid, there was no other reason that he could see for why he kept ending up in these situations.

He was sitting at the courthouse. _The courthouse_. Although anyone who'd seen him before would correctly assume he was simply waiting for Laura to finish her case so they could have their bi-weekly lunch together, it must have looked bad to someone who had already pulled him over twice. Sure enough, Stilinski's eyes met his from across the hall, open curiosity on his face. Derek hurriedly looked away, down at his boot resting over his knee. When footsteps started coming down the hall towards him, Derek began furiously picking at the mud on the hem of his jeans, hoping Stilinski would take the hint and pass him by.

Derek had no such luck, and the footsteps stopped a few feet away, materializing into a pair of shiny black boots that he could see out of the corner of his eye. Derek sighed softly and looked up, regretting it almost immediately; Stilinski just had such a friendly _smile_.

"Hey. Mr. Hale, right? Are you waiting for a hearing?"

Derek flushed, despite having expected that.

"No. I'm…waiting for someone."

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume." Stilinski glanced at the closed doors, lips pursed. Derek wondered if he was trying to find the words to apologize better, or maybe to excuse himself since his curiosity was sated. Now that they were talking, Derek surprisingly didn't want either, and he fumbled for something to break the silence.

"My sister, Laura," he blurted out, louder than he'd meant to. "I'm meeting her for lunch. She's a prosecutor."

Stilinski's expression cleared.

"Laura Hale. Your sister is Laura Hale." Stilinski flicked his eyes back towards him, frank gaze assessing. His face suddenly split into a grin, different from the smiles Derek had seen up to this point. "That would make you her bleeding-heart baby brother who takes care of sick starfish in his spare time."

"That's not—I'm not—they're not starfish. Just, um, birds. And turtles sometimes." Dammit Laura.

Stilinski laughed lightly. "You don't have to explain," he said, as though he knew Derek was still itching to do so. "I think it's sweet."

They both froze at that. A second later, Stilinski flushed red as a cherry and jerked back, nearly catching Derek in the shoulder with a wild limb as his arms windmilled about.

"That wasn't what I meant!" He said hurriedly, palms out. His face was still bright red. "I mean—it's nice. What you do. She talks about you a lot."

"Laura always talks a lot. That's why she's a lawyer." Derek received a startled laugh in response to that, and it made him smile slightly. "I'm a wildlife rehabilitator. It's something to do."

"Something to do when you're not speeding recklessly down the highway, you mean?" Stilinski asked, sounding amused. His eyes were crinkled at the corners and his grin had turned a little sharp. It took Derek a second to realize why, because the truth was—outside of his family—people rarely teased him.

It was nice.

"I'll have you know I almost never get speeding tickets," Derek said, trying for the same almost-flirtatious tone, and he was surprised when Stilinski's smile immediately slipped into something more polite, less engaging, and the pink faded completely from his cheeks.

"Yeah, I bet you don't." Stilinski looked around, like he had just realized where he was. "I should get going. I'll be late otherwise." He smiled again, brief and imperfect. "Enjoy your lunch."

Derek smiled back, even while his mind spun in circles trying to figure out what had gone wrong. He might not be the best conversationalist, but things didn't usually go sour that quickly. People _liked_ flirting with him, dammit.

"Yeah. Yeah, you too."

 _You too?_ Derek hated everything, but he especially hated the fact that he knew this wasn't the last time he'd embarrass himself in front of Officer Stilinski. Somehow it was inevitable.

When Laura asked, later, why he'd been moping all through lunch, Derek just sulkily sipped his drink and didn't try to explain.

***

The next three weeks were busy, so busy that Derek had almost no time to worry about anything but eating and sleeping at semi-regular intervals. Laura's wedding came and went despite its hiccups, and Derek got to see her tear up when he gave his speech, although the speech itself had been far from elegant. Before the day was out, he watched his older sister get on a plane, feeling strangely bereft when he thought about not seeing her for two weeks.

He got over it, because if there was one thing he could rely on these days, it was that the stupid asshole of a bird he was rehabilitating would bite him whenever he let his attention wander. Whoever had told him the stumpy albatross would be no problem for a seasoned rehabilitator had clearly been _deranged_ , because even with one foot practically useless, Lasso still put up a ridiculous fight. A fight while Derek was _feeding_ him, which showed a truly awesome display of poor survival instincts, in his opinion.

The next time the bird went for his fingers, he jerked away, splattering food all down his front. The fishy smell made him wrinkle his nose, bile seeping through to stick cold fabric against his chest. He grabbed for Lasso again, making a note to buy another apron the next time he made a trip to town.

His phone chimed and vibrated in his pocket, and Derek answered it without looking, fumbling it between his head and shoulder.

"Yeah, hello. This is—no, stop moving," he said, struggling one handed to keep Lasso from going head first into the pool. Idiot bird. "Are you trying to drown yourself?"

There was a beat of silence, and then a tentative voice came down the line.

"Is this…Derek? Derek Hale?"

Derek frowned, but he wasn't able to focus too much on the call. Lasso had finally stopped moving enough for Derek to feed him, but that could turn sour in an instant. Even with gloves on, Derek didn't need to experience another of his "gentle" nibbles.

"Speaking. Who's this?"

"This is Stiles. Sorry! Officer Stilinski." Surprised, Derek immediately focused on the conversation. He felt ridiculous, almost giddy, despite being covered in fish.

Before he could say a single stupid word, however, Stilinski laughed on the other end, at himself from the sound of it. "Sorry, you probably don't remember me—"

"I remember you." Derek almost smiled on reflex, before he remembered how he'd answered the phone. Christ. "I swear I'm not a criminal."

That earned him a different laugh, warm and rich. Derek _ached_.

"No, I know, that's not why I'm calling. I'm at the beach, and there's a turtle? It's not really moving, though, and I think some kids were bothering it earlier."

Derek fought back his disappointment. Not a social call, then, although he didn't know why he'd expected differently; Stilinski— _Stiles_ —had emphatically refused his offer for a date weeks ago.

"Yeah, okay, hold on." Derek set the phone down long enough to finish feeding Lasso his canister of terrible fish and release him into the pool again. He left the bird trilling indignantly as he scrambled for his spiral notebook and pen, then pressed the phone back to his ear. "Sorry, Officer. Which beach is this?"

Stiles told him, rambling out approximate directions along the coastline, which Derek estimated was thankfully less than an hour away. Derek nodded along and didn't stop him when he continued rambling about the turtle. The frantic stream of words was almost charming, although if asked, Derek would claim he was simply trying to get all the facts down.

Eventually, however, he had to interrupt, if for no other reason than to drive. He didn't even want to know what a cop would say about him talking to them on the drive there.

"Officer." No effect. " _Stiles._ " The words cut off so abruptly, Derek almost thought the call had been dropped. "I'll be there in an hour. Wait somewhere nearby so I can find the turtle, all right?"

Stiles answered in the affirmative and hung up. After a second of thought, Derek hurriedly shoved his things into the truck cab and shrugged into a fresh shirt after giving his chest a cursory wipe with a washcloth. He wasn't a vet—far from it—but if the turtle was small enough, he might be able to get it into a cage and to Deaton's. He wasn't looking forward to it; as much as he liked turtles, even the small ones tended to be heavy, and usually weren't happy about being moved.

He was not reassured when he arrived at the beach and spotted the dark shape of the turtle almost before he saw Stiles. It was _enormous_ , the largest Derek had ever seen for work reasons, nearly five feet long from head to hind flipper. Stiles was shifting uneasily from foot to foot nearby, looking concerned, but despite his worry, the turtle was clearly alive. But, as Stiles had said, not moving.

Derek studied the turtle from a good distance, careful not to startle it, and then nodded to himself.

"I think it's a Loggerhead. They're not usually seen on land in this part of the country." He glanced at Stiles, quickly and then away again. "But I'm not an expert. And this guy is too big to move with the stuff I have in my truck. I'll call a friend of mine, though, and see what I can do."

Stiles waited while he called Deaton, the conversation thankfully short and minimally cryptic for the veterinarian. Derek was given instructions to stay put while Deaton made arrangements, but that wasn't really a hardship.

When he hung up, he glanced back to his right, surprised to see Stiles beaming at him. It made him look even younger than his baggy shorts and flip flops already did.

"Thanks, dude—Derek. Mister Hale."

"Derek's fine," Derek answered, a little amused. Apparently Stiles's professionalism was something he took off with his uniform; at that moment, he was all but bouncing on his heels, seemingly content to stay right where he was rather than leave the matter to Derek. It made Derek feel over-warm, or maybe that was just because he was standing on a beach in thick work clothes rather than swim trunks.

He shifted his phone from hand to hand, and the weight of it made him realize something he probably should've asked earlier.

"How'd you get my number? I didn't think I was listed anywhere."

Stiles looked at him in confusion, smile dimming slightly.

"You gave it to me. Remember? When I pulled you over that first time."

If Derek had been startled by the call in the first place, it was nothing compared to the news that Stiles had apparently copied his number despite Derek's ill-timed attempts at hitting on him.

"You…kept it?"

Stiles was quickly turning pink, and Derek didn't think it was from too much sun.

"Well, yeah." Stiles rubbed at his hair sheepishly with one hand. "I…might have been looking for an excuse to call you since you gave it to me. I mean, I know that's probably a thing you do, giving your number to cops to get out of a ticket, and I wasn't even sure it was _actually_ your number at first, so I sort of…checked it with your sister. Professionally! Like, two weeks ago."

Well. That explained how weird Laura had been acting; Derek had thought it was just pre-wedding jitters.

The more important part of Stiles's statement sunk in a moment later.

"I do _not_ give my number to all the cops that pull me over." Derek didn't say that he'd never had to resort to it, although that was also the truth. Most cops seemed happy to let him go once he'd smiled and given them a sincere-but-fleeting promise to slow down.

Except, apparently, for Stiles, who was now giving him a very skeptical look.

Derek grumbled and kicked at the sand under his feet. He felt vaguely insulted, even though he realized his defense was a little weak.

"I'm serious; I don't give my number to cops." He glanced at Stiles and hoped he was reading this right. "Or, well, only the cute ones."

Stiles's eyes went wide, expression turning delighted. Miraculously, Derek had said the right thing.

"Well, that's good. Now I don't feel so bad about dragging my best friend to biker bars all month." Stiles waved the statement away before Derek could respond, still smiling as he did. "Never mind that. Have dinner with me? After we take care of this turtle."

Derek smiled, hoping it wasn't obvious how fast his heart was beating, or how his palms were sweating. He blamed the heat (it wasn't the heat.)

"I thought you'd never ask."

***

Two weeks later, the morning before their sixth date, Stiles pulled him over for speeding again on that same highway. He still gave him a ticket.

However, Stiles also gave him a kiss in apology, and that was just fine in Derek's book.

***

END

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is very welcome, and I hope you all enjoyed; come visit me on [Tumblr](http://notboldly.tumblr.com) if you want!
> 
> Also, the title naturally comes from Derek's chronic speeding problem.


End file.
